Significant Others
by foodaddict
Summary: Running into your husband's ex wouldn't be so awkward if you were sure she is an "ex." Robb/OFC (Spin-off from Promises Kept, though you can read this without having to read that story.)


**Significant Others**

 _Running into your husband's ex wouldn't be so awkward if you were sure she is an "ex."_

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Robb Stark or any of the other characters created by George R. R. Martin. Neither do I have any claim over his work in _A Song of Ice and Fire._ I do not earn any profit from this.

 **Author's Note:** Hi guys! Okay, before you read on, you should know that this story is an AU of my other AU fic, _Promises Kept_. That story pairs Robb with an Original Female Character and runs from the premise that Robb decided to keep his promise to Walder Frey rather than marry the girl he loved. _This_ story was born somewhere between Chapter 4 and Chapter 5 of _Promises Kept,_ when I was struggling with completing an update and channeled the creative juices into a oneshot that I was hoping to post as a form of distraction. I completed the update, so this story sort of became unnecessary, but more of the Robb/Morgan pairing has been requested several times even if not in line with the main story. Since I will be unable to properly update _Promises Kept_ until December, I decided that it was time I did post this, since it was basically done and it's a little something to munch on if you're waiting for the update.

Second warning: this piece is a step up from shameless smut, really, so please don't expect anything as substantial as what I write in _Promises Kept_ (which is arguably also made up of shameless smut as well, so I don't know where I'm going with that disclaimer…). Also, it's set in "modern-day" Westeros as I imagine it, hahaha, so if that sort of thing puts you off, run away now.

Finally, there are a bunch of these AU fics lying around in my laptop, so if you enjoy this, do let me know! That way I can start posting those as fillers while I work on the updates for _Promises Kept_. That's all from me now—I hope you like this!

* * *

"Morgan. Let me in please."

 _Fuck._

I tried not to panic at that smooth, silky tone. I wiped furiously at my eyes, wadding up some tissues and trying to quietly blow my nose. I hadn't worn makeup for over a month, so there wouldn't be any tell-tale mascara smudges, but I needed at least a minute to splash my face with water so I wouldn't be too blotchy.

"Just a minute, please," I called out, mentally patting myself on the back when my voice came out even, cool and pleasant. Like absolutely nothing was wrong. Like my husband's ex-fiancée hadn't just shown up at the party looking like a million dragons, while I was fat and pregnant. Like my husband hadn't just spent the last half hour immersed in a private conversation with her, while I pretended not to see and small-talked people I barely knew.

"Darling," Robb's voice came again, an octave lower but still frighteningly agreeable despite the ominous undercurrent, "you'll have to let me in this very moment I'm afraid."

What was he going to do, break down the door? He would never make such a scene. However, if he did, the water closet I was in—one of eight on the first floor of Theon Greyjoy's manor—was nowhere near the main ballroom where most people were. But still, the odds of him doing something drastic were low. Robb had a formidable temper, but its bite was cold. If he was going to berate me for hiding in the bathroom instead of socializing with his friends, he wouldn't do it in a way that would call attention to our quarreling.

"I'll be out in a minute," I said firmly, turning to the sink and twisting one of the caps.

I had less than that time to react when there was a snapping, splintering sound and the door crashed open. I throttled the scream that had jumped from my mouth and scrambled back as my broad-shouldered husband strode through the door, which was now hanging precariously in its frame.

Despite my fright, I registered the way his eyes raked over me and my surroundings—like he was looking for something—and the fear dulled into confusion that was quickly supplanted by outrage.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" I hissed at him, still conscious of the fact that some people might overhear us. Maybe someone had heard the sound of the door being broken down and people were already on their way. Theon's house was well-staffed—surely one of his employees must have heard.

"I told you to let me in," Robb said simply, as though that explained everything. His voice was cool as he continued to peer around the bathroom.

"And I told _you_ I would be out in a minute," I snapped furiously. "What on earth are you looking for?"

His eyes finally settled on mine. "You disappeared. Someone told me that you had stepped out into the gardens but you weren't there."

I _had_ stepped out into the gardens to get some fresh air. I hadn't been able to stand another minute of seeing the way Robb seemed to smile into Jeyne's eyes. I had thought that a moment outside with decent company would make me feel better, but being around someone so sympathetic and understanding had only made it worse.

Moreover, it wasn't appropriate to bawl in one's brother-in-law's arms about one's husband. Even if said brother-in-law was the kindest, nicest, most sympathetic man in the North. There were times when I'd mused how much easier it would have been if I'd been promised to Jon instead of Robb. He was my best friend in the North—mostly because he'd been the friend I'd never expected when I'd first moved to set my life up around my betrothed.

"Yes, I did step outside for a minute with Jon," I admitted, "but…"

The quickness with which the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place astounded me. I stared at Robb, took in the granite cast of his features, the way his icy blue eyes sparked with challenge and fury and...

"Gods, you're jealous," I breathed, unable to believe how ludicrous it was. "You thought I was in here with Jon."

"Considering your fondness for his company, it seemed likely," Robb jeered softly. He snarled when I started to laugh. " _What_ is so amusing?"

" _You're_ jealous," I repeated, trying to smother the hysterical laughter. "After the way _you've_ been carrying on, _you're_ jealous."

And then I burst into tears again.

I swatted at him furiously when he slid his arms around me. "Don't touch me!"

"Stop it," Robb snapped back, crushing me against him so that my hands were pinned against the solid wall of his chest.

"Let me go!" I raged at him, arching away from him, my ire tripling when he used my momentum to tug my head back and look at me.

The tears were humiliating, but then that wasn't exactly a new experience for me. Being Robb's wife—his _unwanted_ wife, the little voice in my brain reminded me—had been a humbling experience from the start. He was so big, so domineering and arrogant. So much stronger than me. Before long I tired and I stopped struggling in the cage of his arms.

He didn't just have the upper hand in the physical sense. We'd been an unlikely pairing from the start: the scion of the most powerful family in the North and one of Walder Frey's daughters from his many unseemly marriages. No one had expected Ned Stark to _really_ go through with it—arranged marriages weren't really the thing anymore. True enough, Ned Stark had entered into an arranged marriage after his older brother had been disinherited for running off with some unlikely girl, but then Ned Stark been wedded to a _Tully_. The Tullies were leagues beyond the Frey's in prominence. Only my father had gambled on the notion that Stark would pay whatever secret debt he owed our house in the manner that my father demanded—and that the younger Stark would cave to his father's command, when he was so obviously enamored with someone else.

A year later, people were still unable to comprehend how exactly my father had gotten exactly what he wanted. People couldn't decide whether to congratulate us for what our grasping had accomplished or to deride us for being such blatant climbers.

To my relief, the tears soon stopped. It was galling, how quickly my husband could decimate my composure when I'd grown up with the firmest belief in my own self-possession. Robb found endless amusement in teasing me about having too much pride and taking myself too seriously, but he would never understand. He had grown up as the eldest son of a Great House, nursed by a formidable mother and groomed by an estimable father to rule the North. I was one of many unremarkable daughters from an upstart house with more money than social or political currency. Self-control was one of the only things about myself I could truly be proud of.

"Look at me, Morgan," Robb commanded softly, tugging at my hair when I didn't comply.

"I'll only claw your eyes out," I said sullenly, ignoring his gentle prodding and twisting so that he was forced to pull me even closer to keep me still.

Somehow, that made him smile. I felt his lips curve over my temple, the little huff of laughter. But he'd always been strangely delighted by me whenever I was behaving badly, though he overreacted to the strangest things. His mouth fluttered gently over my own eyes. "A pity. I like to look at your eyes. Do you know how much like chocolate they look when you've been crying?"

"I _hate_ you," I said on a low hiss as the tender gesture made my eyes start burning again. Gods _damn_ it, would there be no end to the tears?

"No, you don't," he whispered, kissing me roughly. "Don't cry. That's cheating."

But he seemed reconciled to my tears, because he didn't ask me to stop again. In fact, he didn't say anything for the next five minutes or so as he fused his mouth to mine. If a thought of protest entered my mind then, the heat that washed over me surely incinerated it as my husband's hands began to work. Robb's hands tugged impatiently, tore when the fabric didn't give, and I couldn't stop the mewls of delight even when his nails and the pressure of his fingers brought pain.

It wasn't the most graceful way we'd ever made love. It was raw, clumsy, with both of us impatient and gasping to be together. The cries that flew from my throat were high, desperate, as his arms locked around me, keeping me crushed against him even as the driving thrusts of his hips sent me bouncing up. He grunted in satisfaction when I planted my heels into the firm, flexing muscle of his buttocks and tried to match his rhythm. But the fabric of his trousers didn't provide much traction, and soon his rhythm was too hard, too fierce for me to meet. He wrapped one arm around my waist and cupped my nape, bending me back against something cold. Then there was nothing to do but cling to him as his passion roared over us, pounding all doubts into dust.

In the aftermath, I was limp and boneless, struggling to lift my lashes. I could hear Robb's labored breathing, feel his hot breath scalding the side of my neck. He nuzzled me and I realized from the dull throb that he'd bitten me sometime in the white-hot minutes when my mind had been drowned in euphoria. He murmured something, but blood was still roaring in my ears, and I didn't catch it.

Sensation continued to return to me in parts: Robb's hard weight, the residual trembling in both of us, the soreness and moisture that was the evidence of our lovemaking, the hammering of Robb's heart against my own.

 _We can't stay like this_.

The thought cut like a knife through the lurid fog blanketing my mind as I caught sight of the door that was hanging haphazardly in its frame. Anyone could lay a finger against it and it would come crashing down.

"Robb," I whispered, pushing lightly against his chest. "Robb, we need to tidy up."

He grumbled something incomprehensible before burying his mouth against mine. It was difficult not to let him sweep us both under a tide of pleasure, which he often did whenever we came together. Once we started it was difficult to stop, his body courting mine as ardently as if we were doing this for the first time—or the last.

Desperately, I dug my fingers into his arms and twisted my face away. "Robb, stop!"

Robb swore, but his grip eased and I felt him sigh against my neck. Slowly he lowered my feet to the floor. I hopped hastily as my bare foot touched down on cold tile—where had my other shoe gone? He chuckled and pulled me up tighter against him so that my feet dangled a few inches above his own. His hands were a steady but painless pressure on my sides.

"I do believe I've had enough of this party, darling," he whispered, resting his forehead against mine. "Home?"

I nodded, cursing my hormones when I felt my eyes start to water again. I didn't want to be anywhere except alone with him.

"I do believe I'll have to carry you out," Robb murmured, and to my horror the teasing in his voice was accompanied by a note of genuine relish.

"I can walk," I said firmly, staunchly ignoring the throbbing in telling parts of my body.

"Oh?" His hips moved fractionally against mine and I moaned in a mixture of protest and anticipation. We hadn't yet set our clothes in order and he was quickly hardening again. "I'm rather tempted to stay here until you can't."

"You're such an exhibitionist," I complained even as I scrambled to lock my legs around his hips. "Theon will never invite us to one of his parties again."

Robb grinned. "Darling, Theon invented the word. Though I never truly understood his fascination with letting everyone know he was shagging someone until I met you."

"Why?" I asked plaintively, the revelation bringing me up short.

There was an intensity in Robb's blue eyes then which I couldn't place—it seemed like anger and yet wasn't quite there. "I feel like I need to remind everyone—including you—whom you belong to."

Something inside me quivered. If I wouldn't hate myself for it, I would be ready to acknowledge that it might have been my heart.

"That works both ways, you know," I said in the steadiest voice I could manage. "You belong to me as well."

One of Robb's hands caught my own—my left—and he lifted it to his mouth, his lips brushing over the ancient iron and copper band that had been worn by his grandmother and dozens of Stark ladies before her. Next to it the ruby engagement ring he'd gotten me winked up at us.

"I haven't forgotten it," he said with a low fervency that somehow lightened into mischief in a matter of seconds. I heard the low clatter of the lid hitting the toilet before he settled down with me in his lap. "But just to be certain, why don't you remind me?"

I did, forgetting about where we were completely, and when we finally stumbled out of that bathroom and managed to find our way into our limo, there were no more questions about who belonged to whom. There was plenty of tittering and whispering though, when Robb carried me out, and the gossip flared brightly for weeks. It offended a small part of me that people were so astonished by my husband's occupation with his wife, but it was difficult to stay offended when I found myself wondering about it as well. I didn't spend too much time puzzling over it, though—Robb wouldn't let me. What mattered was that I was his, and he was mine, and there was no room for anyone else between us, no matter how significant they were.

* * *

 **Author's Note #2:** What did you think? I hope it tides you guys over until December, when _Promises Kept_ is updated! The next drabble I wrote as a spin-off from _Promises Kept_ has Robb in it as a werewolf, so…let me know if it should go up, too! (I couldn't really help it, hahaha, I wrote it on Halloween some time ago.) Love you, guys!


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